The Fauna of Mirrors
by xXSlushyXx
Summary: In a world full of misconceptions and delusions, an incident involving Madame Rouge's being attacked forces the Brotherhood of Evil to seek Elliot Knight and punish him for crimes he never committed . . . Can the Hive protect their pale demon? Or is he condemned to an eternal life deprived of freedoms?
1. Prologue

**Title: **The Fauna of Mirrors.

**Rating: **T **-**for mild **language** and **violence**.

**Type: **Multiple-Chapter

**Main Character(s): **Elliot Knight (Kyd Wykkyd)

**Summary: **In a world full of misconceptions and delusions, an incident involving Madame Rouge's being attacked forces the Brotherhood of Evil to seek Elliot Knight and punish him for crimes he never committed . . . Can the Hive protect their pale demon? Or is he condemned to an eternal life deprived of freedoms?

**Date/Takes Place: **Less than a month after the Brotherhood begins tracking Titans. **Sometime after **_**Lightspeed.**_

**Warnings: **Lengthy and quite serious. Some characters may be a bit OOC, as I am still learning.

**Disclaimer(s): I do not own the Teen Titans, **and I do not own the cover photo for this story. I also took several different lines and strings from the book "Hush, Hush". This is only for use of the Prologue.

**Anything Else: **I will be using Kyd Wykkyd's real name for a bit of a more mature feel. **I support a non-mute Kyd Wykkyd**; but one that never speaks. **Please keep in mind this story is only in accordance to the Television show, and not the DC comic, **therefor some events or instances may be inaccurate. **This story contains an Original Character as one of the main characters. **I recommend that you not skip the Prologue, though I apologize as this chapter was a bit rushed.

**Author's Note: What you are about to read is still in the process of being written.** I chose to write about Kyd because his character is the absolute definition of "Free." His personality is vague and unclear, leaving the viewers to speculate their own opinions about him, his past, and his morals. Please tell me what you think by posting a review below whenever you have the time! **Constructive Criticism is ****accepted. Flames are not.**

This Prologue is purely dedicated to** Cybertronprincess** for her amazing Title suggestions and help throughout other aspects of the story. Without her, this story wouldn't have such a cool name. I will forever recommend her fantastic stories, which you must now go praise, that can be found ** here. ** → u/2391444/Cybertronprincess

Other than that, I hope you enjoy the story!~ ^^

* * *

Madame Rouge was seething on the grassy banks of the Liore River when the storm rolled in. She had been sent to collect a young male whose abilities were just peeking; a ten-old of some sorts, who the Brain saw as a valuable asset to the Brotherhood. At the realization they had been played, Rouge had cried out in rage and destroyed the worn wooden barn with one smash from an enlarged fist. A thirst for revenge stirring within her mind, she turned, tugged on her boot, and started for home.

The rain sheeted down on the darkening countryside, but even in the thickest fogs the Madame could find her way home from here without the fear of getting lost. There was no fog on that night, but the darkness and onslaught of rain were deceiving enough.

From the fringe of Rouge's vision, apparent movement made itself scarce. She decided it was simply the rain nearing a shadowed corner, but then she saw it once more; and before she could glance back a male was standing atop a monument before her, several yards away.

"You 'vill not move!" called the Rogue, her thick accent lacing into the speech. "Who goes there?" The more she peered through the rain, the easier the boy became to see. His torso was naked, his feet were bare, and peasant shorts hung low on his waist.

But the piercing red eyes tore through her with the greater luminance.

The stranger leapt down from his perch as the ends of his black hair dripped rain. It rolled down his face, which was a pale as a demon's. The boy's mouth hinted at a smile.

"Do not play the games! You are dealing the Madame Rogue!" Rogue hissed. "I asked for v'your name. Give it."

"Rogue?" The boy leaned against a twisted willow tree. "Or Brother?"

The Madame sneered, both shocked and insulted at once. She would brand the _true_ name of the Brotherhood into his knowledge.

"I 'vill give v'you v'one last chance. _Who are you?"_

The boy walked closer with a lazy shake of his head. "One of the Devil's brood," he murmured.

Madame Rouge felt a very unfamiliar presence clench her stomach. So this was fear.

This feeling was quickly replaced by fiery and rage.

"_You are in my v'ay!"_ Rogue lashed out with an outstretched arm, but the boy had vanished. She spun wildly, eyes glaring daggers towards every thickening corner before his presence suddenly made itself clear behind her.

Her mind began to reel like it was no longer in her command. The Madame fell to her knees, blinking and gasping, trying to make sense of whatever seemed to have possessed her body.

The stranger crouched so he was within eye level of Madame Rogue. "Listen closely. I need something from you, and you will not leave until I have it. Do you understand?"

Rogue shook her head to signify her disbelief — her defiance. She tried to hiss at the boy but hear throat refused to obey.

The boy clasped his hands around Rogue's face. The severity was harsh heat, and she bit back a cry in pain. She would not show weakness in front of this man, no matter it was becoming increasingly hard to breathe.

He continued; "You will perform a service for me. You will tell the" — he scoffed — "the _Brain _of this encounter." The boy narrowed his eyes. "Get down on one knee and swear it."

The Madame choked out a laugh, though she was already beginning to unwillingly kneel. Eyes flashing, she croaked in a hoarse voice, "I v'ill tell him." As the boy turned his back to her, all control was returned to her body, and she wavered as she stood on shaky legs. "V'ait!" Rogue shrieked clumsily, sickened at how weak she sounded. "This . . . This _service_ I am to provide! I demand to know v'hy!"

The air resonated with the boy's low laughter.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter Number: **One  
**Rating: **T  
**Date/Takes Place: **Mere days after **Prologue. **  
**Anything Else: Elliot Knight** is Kyd Wykkyd.  
**Author's Note: **And so the story begins! Please read and leave a review down below! ^.^

* * *

Elliot Knight awoke in a cold sweat, clutching the bed sheets with his eyes squeezed tightly shut. When he finally managed to pry them open, he was greeted by five other staring faces.

Jinx was the first to speak.

"We — we heard you thrashing." she explained, shifting uncomfortably, her gaze locked on her shoes.

A smaller, floating boy snorted, wiping the sleep from his tired eyes. "Do you have any idea what time it is? I thought you were supposed to be mute!"

See-More brought down a hand quite harshly on Gizmo's bald head. The younger flinched and moved away.

Blinking up at them with half-terrified eyes, Elliot soon realized the faint look of concern on each of their faces. They could say what they wanted, but the reality was they did care. No matter how much they denied it.

He sat up straight on the mattress, shaggy raven hair brushing by his ears. Mammoth, Gizmo, See-More, Billy Numerous, and Jinx all swarmed near his bed, wondering what exactly was wrong.

"Bad dream?" Jinx guessed, situating herself near his feet. Elliot answered with the slightest nod of his head.

After grumbling their share of "go back to bed" s, most of them cleared out of the room, leaving Jinx still eyeing Elliot worriedly. Once See-More left and pulled shut the door, she asked him once more for confirmation.

"Are you sure you're okay? You've been having a lot of weird dreams lately. And you've been running off a lot. It's not like you, Knight, so what's wrong?"

Elliot felt a bit like he was suspected of murder, and so he settled for a halfhearted shrug. Jinx heaved a defeated sigh and stood.

"OK, fine, I get it. Go back to bed for now." Jinx tossed a pillow at the raven's face, turned, and strode out the door, murmuring something about his stubbornness.

When Gizmo's piercing call for breakfast (in not so many nice words) interrupted Elliot's dreams, he groaned internally, but managed to pull himself from his rest and shove a cowl over his ears. If he didn't get up soon Jinx would force him to, and that couldn't possibly end well.

He trudged lazily into the Kitchen, which doubled as the Dining Room. Jinx, Mammoth, Gizmo, and See-More were already present; though he could've guessed that on his own. Numerous had never been much of an early riser, and no one seemed to mind but Jinx when she was in a particularly bad mood. There was no snapping to clean messes or dish towels thrown, and so Elliot assumed all was well in their leader's train of thought.

The male turned towards the members currently scarfing down cereal, eggs, toast — and, in Mammoth's case, the entire fridge. By this point, an eruption of bickering had usually uplifted to fill the air void of conversation. Today everyone seemed to be content enough; but Elliot feared this scene wouldn't last very long as chaos was sure to follow when Gizmo opened his mouth to complain about the quality of his Fruit Loops.

He pushed the upbringing of multiple complaints to the side and began spreading shortening thickly onto a burnt bagel. Halfway through lifting his gaze upward, Numerous came stumbling into the Kitchen; yawning and cracking his spine. Elliot nodded his greeting and returned to the bread product smothered in butter.

Breakfast cleared quite quickly. Elliot resolved to cleaning the left-behind scraps while Jinx began the dishes. She hummed softly as she do so and, though he quite enjoyed the tune, Elliot couldn't help but allow his mind to wander through the recent nightmares he'd experienced. Most of them centered around a male bearing a close resemblance to himself, thought small differences in set them apart. The details were nearly unrecognizable . . . but Elliot had always held an eye for all the small things.

The disturbing realization at how clearly he could picture each dream always bothered him for some unknown reason. Quite often he thought to mull over the possibility of the night terrors to be reality, but these thoughts were always extinguished as childish. Eventually he decided they were only strange fantasies created by an over-active imagination.

Hovering over this, Elliot finished his cleanings and glanced up just in time for Gizmo to excitedly call the team members over towards the main system's screen. Pinpoint choice locations were marked with bold red dots, alongside them icons of what the place represented. In the center was a large green cash symbol, announcing a local bank recently receiving a sum of money. Billys swarmed near the monitor, calling southern cries with identical lop-sided smiles.

Jinx was more than pleased. "Yes! We can use this a training opportunity!" she exclaimed, pumping a fist into the air. Mammoth and Gizmo just stood with equally wicked grins plastered on their faces, nodding in agreement, as See-More's eyes switched to that of a cash symbol.

"Hive Five, rob 'em blind!" the pink-haired leader ordered, directing her attention towards the doors.

As the team members happily obliged and began clearing out, Elliot paused for a moment, the crease of a frown quite apparent, his eyes cast downwards in thought.

Jinx turned to shoot him a worried gaze just as she was leaving. "Wykkyd? You coming?"

Elliot jerked to attention, looking towards Jinx with a forced smile and a nod of his head. With that, Jinx begrudgingly let it go, and turned to follow the male through the exit.

* * *

A thin wine glass dangled between the maiden's fingers. The liquid sloshed against the rim, nearly spilling onto the carpeted, well-kept floor. She paid this no mind.

"V'ell?" Rogue began thickly, prompting for an answer. She sat in a lush, purple armchair, a leg crossed superiorly over the other. The features of her face played into an impatient, though bored expression. "V'what do you plan to do?"

The digitalized, crackling voice fed her its reply piece by piece. _"You are certain it is him?" _It sounded like a statement. Not a question._  
_

The Madame emit a dry, humorous murmur. ". . . Of course."

_"We will contact his current residence . . . and track his location."  
_

Rogue sniffed distastefully. "That is not v'what I mean. What do you plan to do with him for his sins?"

The Brain remained silent for a short moment of time. Again he spoke. _". . . His face will be ours and the boy will re-gret his act-ions . . . Kyd Wykkyd . . . will fall."  
_  
With a shadowed smirk the Madame rested easily. She liked the way it sounded; coming from the Brain himself.

_Yes . . . Kyd Wykkyd will fall to his knees and beg for me to take his life._

Madame Rogue raised the trembling glass to towards herself, shaking from excitement. She parted her lips only slightly to whisper in the lowest tone.

"Because _that is what he deserves."  
_


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Number: **Two  
**Rating: **T  
**Date/Takes Place: **Two days after Chapter One  
**Anything Else: **N/A  
**Author's Note: **I offer my apologies for a late update (Translation: I super, super sorry I took so long. ~). However, I am pleased to say I have my first follower for this story, **Gryphon44**! So shout out to him/her! My hopes are several more will follow (thought I suppose that's obvious!). Also, if anyone can correctly guess "Ugly"'s name from the end of this chapter I will also give a shout out to you, and head over to your profile to check it out a bit. So, good luck with that. And now, before I'm screamed at to stop yapping, Chapter Two.

* * *

Tumultuous.

It hit him like a dull rush of a satisfying realization — the word he had been looking for was _tumultuous. _As in _displeased, upset, _or _angry. _

And if Jinx was anything in that moment, she was incredibly, unarguably, _angry. _

Any sense of this satisfaction fled from his system within seconds, however, as another glance towards his leader's physically manifesting ire quickly diminished the lingering, unrelated thoughts.

Another day, another heist, another Titan-related failure.

The job itself hadn't been particularly difficult — disable the cameras, destroy the locks, and grab everything of value within thirty minutes. But one of the members must have tripped over an alarm or broken something, because three full minutes' time passed before an ill-thought-out pun interrupted Mammoth's elate statement of gratification. In an attempt to reserve their hardly in-tact dignity, Jinx had insisted they fight until it became painfully obvious they stood no chance. She then resentfully ordered a hasty retreat from the mall and Elliot just managed to transport them back to their HQ, where Jinx immediately fumed, jaw set.

Now the Hive sat around the thin glass table, all but for the frustrated Hex witch Jinx, whose hair seemed to be flaming itself. Elliot forced himself to focus his attention to one of the several marks etched into the glass's surface, eyes cast downwards in a feigned sort of indignity.

Gizmo did nothing but exacerbate the situation.

His arms were folded over his chest quite childishly, his form comparably small in the large chair. Jinx and he had been bickering between themselves for several minutes, though of course the "winner" was clear-cut. Their squabble always ended in the same way; Jinx broke something, released a string of words from a _very _colorful vocabulary, and that was the end of that.

Today, however, a strange sort of feeling found itself stirring in Elliot's gut. Almost apprehension. He wondered momentarily if perhaps he had imagined it — but a sudden clanging bell exploding throughout the room did nothing to drive away his suspicions.

It took a moment for the ringing to register with him. Jinx immediately whipped her head towards the glossy main screen, where the familiar shape of a skull flashed every few seconds. The noise faltered only when Jinx punched the button to answer the call.

A video feed of Madame Rogue crackled to life.

She peered down at them with a permanent scowl, frown creased. "You 'vill state your name."

"Hive Five." Jinx responded almost too quickly, chin lifted. She hadn't forgotten about their last meeting.

Though a call from the Brotherhood wasn't particularly rare, it still struck him as strange. Unexpected. Rogue's eyes flashed with something Elliot was unable to catch, almost recognition. She pushed something out of the camera's view, and then again she was speaking.

"Very v'ell. See this as only a reminder of your loyalty to the Brotherhood and your priorities." Every word was _bathed_ in the thick accent, at times hard to understand. A quick glance to Elliot's right revealed See-More was thinking the same, as his features were scrunched in confusion.

But then the image of her face was flickering off; and before Jinx could respond with even a nod, the conversation was over.

* * *

It was late.

Monsieur Mallah was sure of that much.

Despite the gloomy lack of windows and unforgiving eternal darkness — despite the fact sleep was never a necessity — _Monsieur Mallah_ was fully aware of the sky's darkening view. He'd worked far too many hours for it to be anything but.

He stood within a humid cell void of any light, where a smell of something foul seemed to be eagerly attacking his senses. Another man — Short. Fat. Ugly. The Monsieur didn't care for names. — had fallen to his knees, both hands clasped around a horribly broken noise. He shook violently, muffled sobs emitting from the form every so often.

Mallah stared him down with zero compassion; nothing but a stoic look of disgust enraging his features. He lifted a brow as if preparing to snarl again, but before the words fall from his mouth, the other was crying for mercy.

"Stop! Stop, please!" the man screeched, a stifling, coppery aroma drifting into the air. Monsieur Mallah was quickly growing tired of the nasally voice, and with a sharp kick to Ugly's chest, the wailing ceased with a sickening _crack. _

"Give me ze pictures!" Mallah bellowed deeply, pronouncing each syllable as clear as possible. Traces of his accent, however, still clouded into strings of speech. He'd repeated the single phrase for over three hours, had surely broken several ribs and various other bones, but still, the Monsieur had made very little progress — and he certainly hadn't obtained what he'd come for.

Ugly watched the gorilla with a purely terrified gaze, and his voice involuntarily shook as much as his body. "I don't _have _them! _I don't I don't I don't I don't I don't I_ . . ." his continuous screams echoed against the stone walls, spit flying from his mouth with each word. Something Mallah couldn't quite place in the man's tone made him pause, for the first time momentarily considering the words he'd heard several times already.

"You lie." Mallah stated finally, wondering how much truth was hidden behind his own words.

"_No!_" Ugly crawled near to Mallah's legs. "No, please! Listen! I — I gave them away! I don't _have_ them!"

Rage enlightened his features, and again a foot connected with the man's chest, sending him sprawling. "T'ay were givahn away?!" the Monsieur shrieked, lurching forward to wrap a fist around the man's stubby neck. He lifted him into the air with the slightest of ease, fingers tightening every passing second. "Who has t'em now?"

"S-someone —" Ugly choked out between gasps for air, hands instinctively reaching towards the hand clenched around his windpipe. He looked somewhat like a carp taken from water; something Mallah found particularly amusing. "— some guy with a white mask. He called himself Red . . . something. Red X."

As if that letter was a cue, the man was immediately released from Mallah's grip, and he fell to a crumbled ball on the floor. The Monsieur was already turning, stomping towards the metal door determined to continue his task, regardless of the hour.

"W-wait!" Ugly suddenly cried out, causing Mallah to hardly bat an eye. "I thought — you promised!"

Finally, Monsieur Mallah did fully stop, though he didn't turn to look at the man. In a rough, deep voice, he spoke two quiet words before walking forward again, the cell door swinging shut with a _click _behind him.

"I lied."


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Number: **Three  
**Rating: **T  
**Date/Takes Place: **Roughly twelve hours after Chapter Two.  
**Anything Else: **N/A  
**Author's Note: **I know there's not very many, but thanks to all of you for the favorites and followers. It means a lot, and I do have quite a bit of views on the actual story, so that's cool. ^-^ I'd also like to say that, after planning several chapter ahead**, **I've decided** the OC I mentioned in the Prologue will no longer exist.** The story will run smoother with an actual canon character, but I shouldn't have to change anything important. I would edit the Prologue (replace the chapter), but recently my computer has been doing some funny things, so I won't be able to, which is why I've mentioned it here. (Also, off-topic, a thank you to the Guest that reviewed the previous chapter!)

Anywho, here's Chapter Three from a way slow update. Enjoy!

* * *

If the Brain were to be asked, he would say he could not hear. Not a sound.

Language was detected, then processed and transmitted through tiny microphones hidden near the base of his glowing lectern, from there sent through the auditory nerve to his . . . well, Brain.

But sounds — noises incapable of being fathomed into _words_ — were something his system admittedly could not decipher, no matter how intensely advanced. Creating such technology was proven exceptionally difficult. Even for him. When he wanted to speak, all the Brain need do was _imagine _the words exceptionally clear within his mind, and from there all his little wires and systems would produce a computer-generated gritty voice to his every syllable. Thoughts would become fragments of segmented speech; cables in places he could picture vividly in his mind snapping to activation.

All of this happened at once. All of this happened under three fractions of a second.

And yet still, with such a quantity of technology right under his thumbnail, any sounds other than a detectable language were parts of choppy gibberish the Brain could simply not _hear_; and so he didn't rely quite so much on that sense. Albeit, truth to be told, he didn't rely quite so much on any of the five _senses. _His mind was all he needed — all he _was. _When absolutely _nothing _accommodates your life other than a disembodied human brain and thin pane of clean glass do you have such an abundant amount of time to think.

The point of the matter was the Brian could not hear. And so when persons were within his threshold of presence he would remain without knowledge until the individual spoke.

. . . There was, however, one exception to this. The man — or, rather_, beast_ of a man — had dubbed himself Monsieur Mallah sometime before their meeting. And though the Brain could offer you no explanation himself, when Mallah was near, something within him stirred, and immediately he knew. As if a buzzer had set itself off when the gorilla approached.

And when the glossy set of photographs were revealed and set across the surface before him, that same urging nag instilled inside his being.

Even so, the Brain was considerably pleased.

* * *

He'd worked for a straight three hours' time. Countlessly, he had examined systems and wires. He'd read an infinite number of fragmented code. Gizmo had even reached the point of scanning for any imperfections in the base security system.

And yet still — _n-o-t-h-i-n-g. _

Jinx, however, "zealous" as she was, couldn't find it in her heart to complain.

The poor lad had burnt himself to the core under fear of the hex witch's impending rage; working restlessly to understand exactly what had happened only hours earlier.

The events, for whatever reason, were still fuzzy the way she pictured them — choppy, somehow, like a screen flickering out for minutes at a time during a movie. Recollections were difficult to place together, and words nearly impossible to clutch. Only one single discovery stood out amongst the rest, perhaps the only one she remembered quite well;

A call had been tracked.

A video call from a momentarily unknown party had traced their location using extremely advanced equipment, according to Gizmo. Advanced enough that the genius was incapable of determining who it was that sent the previous call — the task was quite possibly _im_possible, even, no matter how hard he tried. Nevertheless, Gizmo _did _try. For a straight three hours' time.

So who could really blame him?

The mass of Jinx's thoughts were an absolute train wreck; her initial concern had been the suspicion that it had been the Titans who had tracked them. Besides that, she couldn't help but wonder who in the world the Hive had angered that didn't already know their location. Whoever they were, Jinx felt regrettably certain her team would ultimately be unable to take them down. If they'd been able to outsmart even Gizmo, surely the task would prove difficult.

An apprehensive Jinx sighed. She would refuse to show even the slightest sign of how much of a mess she truly was. For now, at least, she would have to remain calm —

And continue to push the nagging but realistic voice telling her the last person they had received a call from was the Brotherhood.


End file.
